


Sleepy, Meet Chivalry

by repeatogirl



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:32:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3749956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/repeatogirl/pseuds/repeatogirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A weary Warden falls asleep by the campfire and a chivalrous Chantry boy carries her back to bed.</p>
<p>Also, a sleepy elf can say silly stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepy, Meet Chivalry

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the alliteration abuse in the summary. And in the text.

Washed clean of Darkspawn blood and bits, Tabris takes a seat beside Alistair, her battle-weary body warming from the heat radiating off of him as well as the campfire.

They’ve gotten to the point in their relationship where the silences are no longer filled with bashful comments and awkward glances (well, at least not _entirely_ ). They’re comfortable with each other now, but perhaps more surprisingly, she’s comfortable around _him_ , a human. Her trust and affection for him only grows when he offers his assistance without a single word, taking the clean cloth from her to help dry her hair.

“It’s gotten long,” he muses as he combs his fingers through, separating a section to towel off.

“I know, I should cut it–”

“N-no, I like it. If anything, it’ll help any potential assassins figure out if they’re supposed to be after you or Leliana.”

She turns to look at him fully, mirroring his expression, eyebrows raised, a smile threatening to break through. It _had_ been amusing when Marjolaine’s assassin told them they were after the "little red-haired girl.“

Tabris reminds him, "Marjolaine’s an Orlesian bard; I’m sure she was very specific in her instructions.”

"Oh, I'm _certain_ she was." Waving his hands around for the full effect, he jokes, “zee braid, eet is like zis!” His efforts earn him a giggle and he gives her a tiny bow. “I see all those years hearing Isolde complain about me have finally paid off.”

Despite the nonchalance and smirk, she’s learned to detect which of his quips carry an undercurrent of melancholy; they’re usually the ones about his childhood. She wants to acknowledge it and offer some words of sympathy, but she knows that he’ll only continue to deflect. Instead, she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him, soft and slow.

He makes a sound of surprise against her lips, one that quickly lowers in pitch. Emboldened by his response, she places her legs across his and fully seats herself onto his lap.

Ever the gentleman, Alistair keeps his hands in places they’ve only ever been before; one hand firmly supporting the back of her head while the other struggles to move no higher than right above her knee, occasionally withdrawing contact completely in an effort to control himself.

She breaks the kiss with a sigh of content and curls up against him. Catching his breath, he rests his head against hers, gently running his fingers up and down her back in half time to whatever slow lullaby Leliana is humming somewhere across camp.

They stay like that for a while before he murmurs, “So, Denerim tomorrow?”

She shifts, drawing herself closer to him, nuzzling against the crook of his neck.

“Tabris?” No response. He repeats himself before trying her first name, but still, silence.

Chuckling to himself, he takes this moment to admire the way the firelight flickers over her. He steals glimpses of the smallest details: slashes across her upper arm– some old, some new, some from practice, some from battle; the faint remains of the split lip she suffered a week ago; a scar at the top of an ear.

He realizes he’s not accustomed to seeing them this exposed; aside from the tiniest tips, her thick hair usually conceals them. _What else don’t I know about you?_ he wonders. Ashamed for staring so long, he tears his gaze away and notices that Leliana’s lullabies have stopped. He looks over at the bard, her eyes glinting in the moonlight, a mischievous grin on her lips.

Suddenly aware of his probable impropriety, he gapes, scrambling for an explanation.

Voice low and melodic, Leliana offers him a way out, “After all the fighting today, she must have been so terribly exhausted. You’d best take her back to her tent; poor thing might catch a cold out here with that wet hair.”

Grateful, Alistair nods, carefully rearranging his arms underneath her. Tiny elf that she is, he easily manages to stand with her in his arms.

Before he’s made it halfway to her tent, he thinks he hears a _tut-tut_ from Wynne but doesn’t dare glance in that direction to confirm. Before he enters, he _knows_ he hears a wolf-whistle and doesn’t have to guess the culprit behind it. In a tone even more suggestive than usual, Zevran cuts in, “Ah, my good friend, I was wondering how long it would take you to bed our lovely leader.”

Despite the distance from the campfire, Alistair’s face still burns.

Safely inside, he lays her down onto her bedroll, gently trying to pry apart the arms around his neck. She only pulls him closer, groggily grumbling, “’s my pillow, Shianni. Take Soris'.”

Grinning like a fool, he carefully lies down beside her, adjusting his body so that she can easily rest on him. As he draws the blanket up over her– and only her– her mabari pads into the tent, surprisingly quiet for a war-hound. Barkspawn mimics his human, unceremoniously descending on Alistair to use him as a bed. _Oof. What has she been teaching him?_ One of them is bound to move at some point. He’ll make his exit then.

He will.

_Maker, it’s nice in here though,_ he thinks. _So much cleaner, softer…_

Darkspawn dreams don’t dare disrupt them.

When Tabris wakes up, she’s faintly aware of the body behind her. At first she thinks it's only the dog, but as she stretches, her foot collides with what is undeniably a human leg. Slowing turning her head, she spots a tuft of reddish-blonde hair in her periphery. She stiffens, unsure of the chain of events. However, as she rises, she realizes that although she’s wrapped warmly in the wool blanket, her companion is not. Instead, Alistair is sleeping soundly on his back wearing only his threadbare tunic and leggings. Her original theory holds some weight though, as Barkspawn is indeed present, sprawled out between them– or more accurately, partly between them, as Alistair hugs the dog closely, a makeshift blanket of his own.

So chivalrous.

As gently as she can, Tabris tugs at the part of the blanket lodged underneath him, but like a good guard-dog, he stirs at the movement. As if her plan wasn’t already falling apart, he barks happily upon seeing her. And loudly. Alistair is awake in a flash, bolting upright.

Tabris cringes. “I’m sorry! Believe it or not, this was what the opposite of what I was trying to do.”

He shakes his head, chuckling, “No, I’m the one who should apologize, I must've dozed off... I would have left you in peace when I brought you in, but you were a little insistent that your, um, pillow not leave.”

Still weary with sleep, it takes her a moment to process what he just said. Once memory kicks in it morphs into mortification and she groans, burying her face into her _actual_ pillow.

Voice muffled, she hastily explains, “In the Alienage, everything’s so scarce, you know? And growing up, my cousins were always over and we’d share a bed, and even though my parents made sure we each had a pillow of our own, Shianni and Soris were so–”

Laughing heartily now, he kisses the top of her head, effectively ceasing her babbling. “You have nothing to worry about. This one’s all yours, my dear. Only yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this adorable kink meme prompt](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/10371.html?thread=45552003#t45552003):
>
>> So this came to me yesterday and wouldn't leave my head. During the blight the warden develops feelings for either Alistair or Zevran (A!A's choice) and they start a tentative relationship. Early on in this the Warden decides to test the waters a bit by curling in their partners lap by the campfire one evening. They really only intend to relax a little (maybe helped along by some light touches/massaging. But they're so bone-tired from fighting darkspawn etc. that they fall asleep in their partners lap. Cue squee inducing reactions of whichever partner A!A chose. 
>> 
>> Bonus points: The reactions of some of the other party members.  
> The partner carrying their warden back to his/her tent (or theirs if they've already started sharing.)  
> The Warden being embarrassed when they find out what happened in the morning but their partner reassures them. 
>> 
>> Gender and race of the Warden is entirely up to A!A  
> Not necessarily looking for smut here. But if you are desperate to include some I wouldn't say no to some really sweet cuddly early morning sex.


End file.
